We’re back in Paris after two great weeks in and around Toulouse, during which time we put a fair amount of kilometers on our hosts’ car. (As an aside, our car in Toulouse was a Citroen C4 Picasso, with a diesel engine, and after driving it I will certainly consider a diesel engine for my next car. Diesel engines are more reliable and get terrific mileage per gallon — during our entire time in Toulouse, which included a ton of driving, we spent just a little over 120 euros for fuel; every time we filled up we were surprised at how little fuel we needed. The downside is that diesels are more expensive, and used to emit more pollution (although it appears that they also emit less CO2 — a good comparison article is here.)
As I was saying, we drove many, many kilometers during those two weeks, the vast majority of it on very small roads, denominated in the French system as “D” routes, minor roads that run between small villages or that are not the main route between bigger cities. These roads were often narrow and without shoulders, but they were, almost without exception, in excellent condition, with smooth surfaces that were a pleasure to drive. As I drove these wonderful roads, I kept asking myself — “Why can’t roads in California be like this?” If you drive the equivalent small roads in California, your car (and your body) will be battered by the usually horrible condition of the roads. Maintenance seems to consist of throwing loose asphalt into holes (converting a jarring hole into a jarring bump) and putting up “rough road” signs (actually, there aren’t any of those; everyone knows the roads are rough).
But I think I know the answer to the question “Why can’t roads in California be like this,” and the answer is fundamentally a political one. For better or worse, the French are willing to pay the taxes necessary to allow the government to construct and maintain good roads, and Californians are not. The necessary implication is that the French place a higher priority on their roads (and other government-run, public things) than Californians do. Why this should be is a question you could spend days discussing, but I’ve not got that amount of time (actually, I do, but I prefer to spend it other ways), so I’ll give you the answer (actually, three answers) that I came up with somewhere between Cahors and Toulouse.
The first answer is that the French trust their government (and their fellow citizens) more than Californians do. It isn’t that Californians wouldn’t pay for better roads if they could be absolutely certain that the money they paid to the government would go towards constructing better roads. It’s that enough Californians believe (rightly or wrongly) that the government will either piss away any tax money it gets rather than spending it correctly on road maintenance, or will choose to spend the money on things other than road maintenance (like supporting “deadbeats”). The French are willing to spend some money to support “deadbeats” (knowing each of them, or their parents, or their friends, might be a “deadbeat” themselves someday), and willing to have the government piss away a little bit of tax money (no large organization being completely efficient) in order to preserve the public space — roads in good shape, parks in good shape, pretty flowers hanging from baskets along village streets — as a necessary part of “le bonheur.” For most Californians, “le bonheur” has nothing to do with the government, thank you very much; I’ll find my own bonheur and the rest of you can go find yours, or not. Obviously I exaggerate here, but the gist of what I’m saying is, I think, true (although I note in defense of the “go find yours or not” folks that this outlook probably also produces greater diversity and greater individual freedoms).
The second answer is that institutional constraints in California are such that even if you suddenly populated California with Les Francaises, you would have a hard time ending up with well-maintained roads. Proposition 13’s limitation on the ability of local government to raise taxes, and the California constitution’s requirement of two-thirds approval for a budget, together serve to almost guarantee a “bare bones” government — the substantial minority that completely distrusts government has a veto.
The third answer has to do, of all things, with the idea of patriotism. The appropriation and subsequent distortion (I think) of the notion of patriotism by the far right is very sad. I love America so much that I think I’ll let her bridges and roads crumble, her public spaces decay, her public universities shrink, so long as we have a kick-ass army, navy, and air force. When has distrust and disdain for the government and the public sphere become a sign of patriotism?
The far left must take its share of the blame, too. Its disdain of the middle class and its values, its blind insistance on process (the subject of a later post, I think), its constant evocation of class warfare (we’ll fix no road so long as any American goes to bed hungry), has created, along with the far right, a void in the political middle. To the far left, the very notion of “patriotism” is anathema; pride in your country is something only country bumpkins feel, not intellectuals. Neither the far left nor the far right has a place in its political philosophy for the kind of pride in the everyday public sphere that creates smooth, well-maintained roads.
For someone like me, a pretty much down-the-middle moderate, it’s hard for me to say that I think California needs to be little more like France, but that is my conclusion. I don’t particularly distrust my fellow citizens, and I don’t particularly distrust the government, and I don’t particularly trust them either, but I do trust the ability of a properly-functioning political system to correct itself. And I must say that I’ve come to the conclusion that the blind, “starve-government-at-all-costs” drone of the far right has acquired too much power, at least in California. Do away with the two-thirds budget requirement in California, and what will happen — yes, taxes will go up for a time, but if they go up too much, there will be a reaction. In the meantime, maybe some of the roads will be properly paved.
I’m not so naive to think that France is a paradise; it has its own problems (among them, the striking absence of its minority populations in even low- and mid-level positions in government and business, and the apparent lack of recognition that this is a problem; the rigidity of its employment and business regulations; and the decline in its university system). But the roads are smooth, the parks are clean and beautiful, and people seem happy and, even more, proud of their country in a reasonable, understated way.
Categories: Travel -- France